The Know (33 page)

‘Look, Joe . . .’

‘Oh, no, you don’t, Della. You don’t talk me round this time.
You
are a fucking bully.’

He knew it was the pot calling the kettle black but this didn’t bother him one iota. ‘Well, that’s it now, girl. I’m off home to my own place and my poor son.’

Her mobile rang and saved her from answering. She listened to the caller and he saw out of the corner of one eye her look of shocked bemusement.

‘Oh, my God!’

Her voice was high-pitched.

‘What’s wrong, Della?’

‘Little Tommy was attacked at home. He’s in hospital, Joe, really bad by all accounts.’

He slowed down, much to the annoyance of the cars behind.

‘Who done it?’

He stopped in a driveway to allow the other cars to pass them by and stared ahead of him for a few minutes. Then, leaning over her, he opened the car door.

‘Get out.’

‘What!’

‘You heard, Della, get out of the car.’

Something in his voice and manner penetrated her anger. She got out of the car. He drove off then, leaving her stranded.

Della started sobbing into her mobile as her daughter struggled to understand what the hell was going on.

 
Baxter was considering early retirement. This latest attack on Little Tommy Thompson had caused uproar once more and the press was loving it. Worst of all, everyone knew who had done it but Jon Jon Brewer had a pub full of people who put him there at the time the attack took place.

Baxter was following up on the rumour that Tommy had been accused of noncing. They had put him through the national database and found nothing. They had looked at him every way but which, and still found nothing. But a rumour had been heard and now he was at death’s door in the burns unit of Billericay Hospital, and Baxter was left to sort out the flak.

Joseph Thompson had gone on the trot as well. Was that because he had had a hand in something sinister, or because he was frightened of being accused along with his son? They wouldn’t know until they found him.

Jon Jon the vigilante had done no one any favours but to the people round here he was a hero.

Baxter was going to pull him in anyway. See what occurred.

Joanie didn’t want to believe what her son was telling her. Didn’t want to believe that she had brought the instrument of her daughter’s destruction into their home.

‘Listen to me, Mum, he’s a fucking nonce - him
and
his father. They were accused and gave a bird money to shut her trap. She had an old man banged up, a violent cunt who she wanted shot of once and for all. The money gave her the means to do that. I’m still trying to track her down, the whore, and when I do, I will find out exactly what went down. But one of them Thompsons knows where Kira is, where she’s b—’

He stopped himself from saying ‘buried’ but Joanie guessed anyway. It was funny but she couldn’t cry any more. It was as if all the tears had been shed. She was dry, inside and out.

She poured a neat vodka and gulped it. Then, picking up the bottle, she walked into her bedroom and shut the door.

‘That ain’t going to fucking help, is it, Mother!’

Jon Jon was crying.

She opened the door and looked at him before saying sadly, ‘You got any better ideas?’

She had given up and Jon Jon knew that. He looked round the flat. All her stuff from the cupboards was on the floor. She had been looking at it before he had come home. She had been remembering happy times with the kids, her fantasy parties that they had loved so much. She had retreated into them as she always did to cheer herself up. It was all she had to show for her life and he suddenly saw it as overwhelmingly pitiful that a woman could have three children and a long life and all that was left at the end of the day was a few hundred quid’s worth of memories.

He knelt on the floor and picked up a silver cake knife. Cradling it to his chest, he cried like a baby.

 
Little Tommy Thompson was in a critical condition. He was badly burned and had taken a severe beating. It was common knowledge now that he was a sex offender and even the nurses who had previously shown compassion found it difficult to touch him without seeing a mental picture of Kira Brewer.

Her face was etched into everyone’s mind.

As they looked down at the man thought to be responsible for her disappearance they couldn’t help but wonder if they were restoring a murderer to health.

The policeman who sat by his bed took a different view. As far as he was concerned, if Jon Jon Brewer or any of his cronies turned up at the hospital to finish the job he would be conveniently looking the other way. That huge mountain of flab that passed for a human being could die in agony as far as he was concerned. It was all he was fit for.

From the rumours going the rounds there was no doubt that Little Tommy, his father, or indeed both of them were the culprits.

The newspapers were investigating how the police had failed Kira Brewer and her family by not following up on paedophile allegations made by neighbours. Joseph Thompson had conveniently vanished, adding to public belief that there was indeed something suspect about the whole family.

For Little Tommy, horribly scarred, there was only morphine; he was out of it all now. If he survived this the only thing he could look forward to was prison and a life sentence.

If, of course, the other cons let him live to serve it.

Chapter Seventeen

Baxter read the news reports over and over. He sighed heavily. He hated this case. The papers were having a field day, and he was getting it in the neck from every angle.

Fuck Jon Jon Brewer.

Fuck him to hell.

He was a national hero now. Everyone knew he had done it, but no one could prove it. Supposition, the great British pastime. All Baxter could do now was damage limitation. If they did charge Jon Jon it would cause a public furore. The memory of Kira’s sweet face was enough to see to that.

He felt as if all he wanted to do was go home and sleep and never wake up.

He had a feeling Joanie Brewer felt the same, but for different reasons.

 
Monika was in her element. Her nasty allegations had proved correct and Jon Jon had finally taken the law into his own hands and battered that fat bastard once and for all.

As she sipped her coffee there was a knock on the door.

‘Answer that, Bethany.’

She was not worried about the neighbours any more. Thanks to Jon Jon she had been proved right. She was the next thing to a heroine, in her own mind. Monika’s utter self-absorption knew no bounds.

Bethany saw who the caller was and wanted to run. She could not look her in the face.

‘It’s Joanie Brewer, Mum.’

Monika felt as if her cup was really running over now. Joanie had probably come to apologise, and she would accept the apology with good grace. After all, they had been friends for years and even Joanie could make a mistake.

‘Well, open the door then, or are you waiting for her to walk through it?’

Normally a quip like that would have made Bethany laugh but the child had been in a deep depression since Kira had disappeared. Unlike Monika herself, Bethany had taken it badly. Almost personally. She sat glued to Sky News day and night. Morbid little cow she was.

Bethany let Joanie in and was saddened by the sight of her. She had aged overnight and now she looked dilapidated. Unkempt and untidy, she was a shadow of her former self.

‘Hello, Joanie love. All right?’

Monika’s voice was full of friendship and camaraderie. As if nothing untoward had ever happened between them. As if she had never betrayed her best and in reality only friend.

Joanie nodded almost imperceptibly.

‘Want a cup of tea?’

Joanie shook her head slowly.

‘Got any of the hard?’

Even her voice sounded dead, gravelly, as if it hadn’t been used for months. Monika poured her out a large Bacardi and added a dash of Coke.

‘Here you are, girl, get your lips round that.’

Joanie took a deep swig of the drink and then perched herself on the edge of the sofa.

‘You look so skinny, Joanie!’

She stared back with indifference.

‘It suits you, mate, you look years younger . . .’

Joanie interrupted her idiotic chatter. Only Monika would waffle on about weight and looks at a time like this. But then, Monika would be asking if her bum looked big if someone had a gun to her head.

‘Were you lying when you said all that about Tommy?’

Whatever Monika was expecting it wasn’t that. It was obvious from the look of astonishment on her face.

‘What do you mean?’

She sounded offended.

‘I
mean
, were you making up what you said about Tommy being a nonce?’

Joanie’s eyes were hard and it occurred to Monika that she was walking on eggshells here.

‘I want the truth.’

Monika was mortally offended now and it showed.

‘’Course I wasn’t. Anyway, even if I was exaggerating a little bit, I was still right, weren’t I?’

She was all self-righteous now, all wounded pride.

‘Do you know what you’ve done, Monika? Do you realise what you have caused?’

Monika was not at all happy with the way this conversation was going.

‘They’ve pulled my boy in and they will tie him to this if it’s the last thing they do.’ Joanie drained the glass. ‘You know how they feel about him, and thanks to you they have a good excuse to bang him up.’

Joanie was nearly crying.

When they had asked Jon Jon to go to the station with them her heart nearly stopped beating with fright. She was convinced he was going to be put away. Baxter had wanted him for so long that his time had to be running out. His luck couldn’t last for ever.

Her entire family had fallen apart since Kira’s disappearance. She pointed a finger at her one-time friend.

‘I swallowed the newspaper stories about us on the game, I didn’t care because they were true anyway. But I can’t forgive you for this. If they take my baby boy away I will have no one, and then I’ll be coming for
you
. Do you understand what I’m saying? Jon Jon won’t be in it once I get started.’

Monika understood all right. This was the old Joanie, the one people avoided if they upset her too much. The Joanie who could turn on a coin for a friend, a child or for herself. Monika needed to talk her way out of this one and quickly.

‘But it
was
Tommy, everyone knows that now.’

Joanie shrugged once more.

‘Do they? I wouldn’t believe Lorna or her cousin any more than I believe you. Lying bastards, the lot of you.’

Joanie stared at her.

‘You talk shit, Monika. You lie constantly and now you’ve dropped my boy in it. He could be put away for years. If that happens I will make it my one aim in life to see you suffer. And you’ll fucking suffer like you never thought possible.’

She stood up.

‘I’ve lost one baby, Monika, and if I lose another . . .’

She left the sentence unfinished.

‘But you won’t, Joanie. Jon Jon is a hero. No one would dare nick him now. He’s done the filth a favour; they hate nonces as much as we do.’

Joanie sighed.

‘We catered to nonces our whole working life, we were just too stupid to see it. Look at all the young girls we’ve seen come and go over the years. We were as bad as the pimps because we should never have got involved in any of it. Sex is behind everything bad that ever happens in this country. Me and you were just at the bottom of the pile when it came to getting paid for it.’

Monika could not see any logic in what Joanie was saying. Grief was making her blame herself for something she’d had no control over. Joanie had lost it for good and all.

‘This ain’t got nothing to do with us and what we do, mate.’

Monika was trying in her own way to calm her friend down, make her see that it wasn’t down to them.

‘No? Then why are we plagued by bad luck? All us working girls are. It’s one fucking drama after another. Use your loaf, Monika. For once in your life, look at the big picture.’

‘But, Joanie, listen to yourself . . .’

‘Oh, fuck off, Monika. Stop trying to be me mate, you wouldn’t know one if they fell out of a tree and hit you on the head. Look after your own family for once. Look after that little girl there, overweight and unhappy, your Bethany. She’s a born again Monika and she’ll end up just like you, God help her. You are fucking scum, Mon, scum. You ain’t worth a wank and you know it. But I tell you again, girl, you watch your fucking back and you watch it well.’

She left then and Bethany stared dully at her mother as Monika went ballistic at the unfairness of her so-called friend.

Bethany kept her own counsel but her guilt knew no bounds.

She had lied to the police, she had lied to everyone.